


More Than a Face - Twelfth Doctor

by writingsofa_hobbit



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 09:34:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17221406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingsofa_hobbit/pseuds/writingsofa_hobbit
Summary: After regenerating into an old scot, the Doctor believes he is not fit to love the reader anymore. The reader then takes him to a planet and tries to show him that she stills loves him and that he still deserves love.





	More Than a Face - Twelfth Doctor

The Doctor’s frail hands fluttered over the buttons and the levers as he fidgeted with the controls of the TARDIS trying to direct the time machine to some distant planet. He only stopped to look up for a brief moment as soft scuffs sounded as Y/N descended the stairs. 

“Hello, Doctor!” She said, happiness ringing through her voice as the Doctor peered around the center of the TARDIS’s console. 

“Hello,” he replied.

“Can I take us somewhere today?” She asked, E/C eyes glittering gently with hope. “The TARDIS suggested it to me and while she said you might not think anything of it, I think it’d be rather fun.”

“I don’t see why not,” he said. His black brogue boots tapped on the metal flooring as he walked around the console. “Where are you taking us, Captain Y/N?”

The Doctor winced inwardly at the tone with which he had said her name. He had only meant to be kind, but it had come out rather sarcastic. But Y/N seemed to think nothing of it as she continued on in the sweet way she always seemed to. 

“That’s for me to know, and you to wait for, love,” she said with a smile, the combination of you calling him love and the brilliant smile you gave him sent the Doctor reeling. Your hands began to play about the controls in the same way your words played about his hearts as the Doctor fought to stay grounded in the moment. 

When you were finally ready to send the time machine flying through space and time, you gestured for the Doctor to come closer. The Doctor did as you wished and placed his hand on top of your smaller one. His serene grey eyes met hers and he desperately wished he could hold her and kiss her as they sent the TARDIS whirring into space. 

About a week ago, the Doctor had transformed from a goofy bow tie wearing fool to a stark old man, and the Doctor found that he had never once wished he could go back to his old self more than now. 

His eyes were age-old and sunken, and they seemed plagued with fatigue and anger, even when he tried to convey kindness in his stormy irises. His face was wrinkled and his skin formed small bags in some places and betrayed the bone beneath in others. His hair was still thick, but now it was grey and stuck up from his head in wispy tufts. 

But it wasn’t so much the looks that bothered him, it was the fact that every fiber of the Doctor kept him from treating you, his companion and lover, the way you deserved. His heart longed to be comfortable with holding you again. He wanted to be able to compliment you and make you smile again, but he didn’t know how. He wished he could tell you he loved you, but he knew the words wouldn’t sound right on his bitter and biting tongue. 

You deserved the kindness and the openness that this new Doctor couldn’t provide you with and the Doctor hated it. He could feel himself drifting farther and farther from you, and he wished more than anything else to find his way back to you, to hug you and press a kiss to your supple lips, but he couldn’t.

The Doctor loved you, but you deserved better than the beaten up old man he had become. 

“Oh don’t look so sad, Doctor,” you teased. “Come on. We’re here.”

The Doctor felt your hand softly intertwine with his and he looked down to find your hands locked and a sense of knowing in your eyes. 

“Well,” the Doctor said, trying to distract himself from the fact that you might know how he felt about his new form, “what are we waiting on, love?”

And then before the Doctor knew, he was being pulled through the doors of the TARDIS only to find himself standing in the middle of a field surrounded by tall mountains. The tall grass that brushed the tips of his fingers was a deep shade of green and it covered the entirety of the valley and climbed up the sides of the mountains until it disappeared into a mess of trees. The Doctor looked up and marveled at the sight of two beautiful suns, one a golden yellow and the other a brilliant white, and a moon so close that its rings could be seen from the little planet. 

“Otov II?” The Doctor asked, his thick, brownish-grey eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Why here?” 

“Do you know the customs of the Otovians, Doctor?” You asked as you gazed off at the small village at the foot of the peaks. Each house was a made of dark wood and each one was exactly the same size. Not one bigger than the other and each one humble. 

“Well, of course,” the Doctor said, utter confusion still lingering in his tone as he explained. “They’re practically blind and so they’re forced to judge one another on their thoughts, philosophies, and what they care about. They’re kind and loving towards one another due to their lack of vision.”

“Exactly,” you said as if it was enough of an explanation. However, the Doctor was still lost, something he was very unused to, regardless of his regeneration. 

“What of it,” the Doctor asked. “They’re some of the most peaceful creatures on the planet. They don’t need saving. They’re alright.”

“I know they don’t, Doctor. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t.”

“I do not!” He scoffed. “I save others, not the other way around! I don’t need saving.”

“Everybody needs saving, Doctor,” you said, pressing a finger to his lips when he opened his mouth to protest. “I know how you feel about your new regeneration, Doctor.”

The Doctor’s heart sunk and his genius mind ran a thousand light years per second, thinking of every possible negative outcome.

What if she doesn’t like it? What if she’s fallen out of love with me? What if she wants to go home?

“You daft, old man,” you laughed, “stop thinking for a moment, would you? I’m not leaving you. I brought you here because I wanted to tell you that.”

“I still love you, Doctor.” 

“But I’m old,” the Doctor protested, his voice cracking and no louder than a mumble. “I can’t give you everything you deserve in this new body.”

“I know, Doctor,” you said. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t still deserve love. And guess what, Doctor, I’m just like Otovians. I admire you for your courage, your wonder, and love for the universe. You care for everything living thing, no matter its crimes. You don’t have to, but you do anyway because the kindness in your hearts is greater than this ever-expanding universe. And it’s not just because you have two hearts.”

You paused, and the Doctor realized that your hands had risen to his face and was wiping away tears he hadn’t even realized had fallen. He wished your hands would stay there forever, your touch light and lovely on this old face of his. 

“I fell in love with an amazing being with an endless capacity for love and kindness. I fell in love because you’re good and you’re just and you travel the whole of time and space, not for yourself, but because there are other people who need saving. Who you are is more than a face, Doctor. You’re a traveler, a lifesaver, a Doctor. Your the Doctor of my heart, and that’s who I fell in love with.”

A smile brighter than the combined light of the stars above lit up your face and pure devotion and love twinkled in your E/C eyes. 

“Your looks are just an added bonus,” you teased, winking up at him playfully as your hand held the curve of the Doctor’s bony cheek. 

The Doctor felt a small smile of his own grow on his face. 

“Even the looks of an old Scot?” the Doctor asked, tears of joy blurring his vision pleasantly. 

“Those especially,” you said. 

The Doctor felt the sudden impulse to wrap you in the tightest hug possible and to kiss your sweetly smiling lip in the middle of the beautiful mountain meadow in which you two stood. 

You cared. You were staying with him. You were still his. And best of all you still loved him, looks and all. 

And then, at that moment the Doctor decided to through all care to the wind and pressed a quick kiss to your soft cheek before wrapping his arms around you in a gentle hug.

Contrary to what he expected, his body warmed up at the feeling of your body against his, at the feeling of your hair against his, at the feeling of your hair against his cheek as he buried his head in the nape of your neck. His heart sighed with relief when he felt your small hands travel up the velvety surface of the coat covering his back and hug him back, just as tightly as he had. It was beyond comforting. 

“I thought you didn’t do hugs,” you laughed quietly. 

“Oh hush, before I regret making an exception for you,” the Doctor said into the wisps of your thick hair, his Scottish accent thick with happiness.

Your sweet laughter rang throughout the air and you pressed a loving kiss to the Doctor’s cheekbones, and it made the Doctor smile happily to himself as his hearts warmed more than he ever thought they would in this body. 

“I love you,” you hummed sweetly, “my Doctor.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Maybe the Doctor could get used to this hugging thing.


End file.
